


The Eternal Flame

by primeideal



Category: Expert Judgment on Markers to Deter Inadvertent Human Intrusion... - Sandia Labs, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, crossover of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Poe tries to escape from his own past by facing the galaxy's. It doesn't exactly work.(You don't need to be familiar with "Expert Judgment on Markers..." for this to make sense, though it's a nice bonus.)
Relationships: Lando Calrissian/Poe Dameron
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Fic In A Box





	The Eternal Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).



“What kind of transmissions,” General Calrissian asked, “could possibly be more interesting than dinner with Chewbacca and them?”

Poe did not look up from his datapad. “Fan mail,” he teased, “from my admirers around the galaxy.”

“Ah,” Calrissian said. “To be young and believe the novelty will not wear off.”

“Maybe some outstanding arrest warrants, too. I’m not sure.”

“If only you knew someone who could arrange to have those forgotten.”

The emergent leader of the ad hoc Council of Systems had not been Calrissian. People heeded his voice, when they had to, but he knew the more he nagged at them to take some responsibility for the galaxy, the less they’d listen. Nor had it been Poe, who had always been happier on the front lines than in a boardroom. Or Rey, who wanted to take time for herself and travel the galaxy. Or Finn, who was helping Jannah repurpose some of the more peacetime-usable First Order tech. It had not, in fact, been a human.

“Your species has had plenty of chances to lead the galaxy,” Chewbacca’s son Lumpy was known to growl, as translated by the tireless C-3PO. “Give someone else the chance to make a mess of it.”

“I guess that’s one benefit of having a revolution every few decades,” Poe said. “Cleans the slate.”

“Suit yourself,” Calrissian said. “I’ll give Chewie your regards.”

“If you see Rey, tell her I could use a ghost.”

Calrissian gave a laugh. “The poor thing’s been busy enough letting the dead rest in peace. I don’t think she’s particularly interested in having them haunt the galaxy.”

“Well,” said Poe, “somebody is, because I keep getting comms from cranks who think they’ve found ancient Jedi artifacts. ‘Lost Lightsaber of Master Yoda’ this and ‘Demolished Library’ that. If I had a credit for every scammer who tried to advertise these I’d...” He trailed off, flickering through his datapad again.

“Squander it all in Canto Bight?”

“I was going to say ‘be rich and famous and have Councilor Lumpy’s ear,’ but it turns out that doesn’t take too many credits. Just being in the right place at the right time.”

“Then why don’t you just ignore them?”

“Because I think one of them might be real.”

“Now you’re a Jedi historian, too?”

Poe squirmed. “I...Before, when all this was beginning—Leia had me...”

“Never mind.”

“No,” said Poe. “I’d like someone to talk to. If you don’t mind.”

“If I don’t mind?” Calrissian snorted. “You think I haven’t had days worth complaining about? Many of them when I was less polite, and sober, than you?”

Poe glanced down, looking through rather than at the datapad. “Before. Leia had me meet an old friend of hers, an Alderaanian, because she thought he would know where Luke was. I was able to get the information from him, but then Kylo Ren—well. Interrogated me. But I survived! My contact...didn’t.”

Nod.

“An _Alderaanian._ I asked, wouldn’t he be part of the diaspora communities on Naboo or Coruscant or, I don’t know, somewhere in the Core. But Leia said, no, he’d gone to Jakku. _Jakku_ , of all places, because there was some cult out there that worshipped the Force. There was a whole village. Ren slaughtered them all. The Church of the Force, that’s what they called themselves.” Poe clicked on the datapad. “It wasn’t like I had a lot of time for tourism, but I think logo this is their insignia. It looks right.”

He turned the datapad to display the message—some enterprising quadruped seeking brave archaeologists and explorers to unearth lost ruins. Her company’s logo was a bright yellow spiral with broad spokes extending out, like a child’s drawing of a sun.

“There are lots and lots of companies out there. If _I_ had a credit for every two businessbeings that came up with the same symbol, _I’d_ be squandering it all at Canto Bight.”

“I’m no Force mystic,” said Poe. “But this letter, it has a pull.”

“A pull? Do they send gravitrons on the nets now?”

Poe rolled his eyes, closing the screen. “Didn’t think you were _that_ old.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see other planets,” said Calrissian. “Look at Rey. But just because you fought one battle doesn’t mean you need to manage the whole campaign—I’m sure Leia would say the same thing.”

“Don’t.” Poe’s eyes flashed anger as he stood up, clenching the datapad. “Don’t try to use her against me, I don’t care if you were friends.”

“I’m sorry—” Lando began, but Poe was already making his escape.

* * *

“Master Dameron,” said C-3PO, “what an unexpected pleasure.”

“I’m no one’s master,” said Poe.

“I’m a creature of habit.”

“You could try setting an example for other droids. You’re an influential translator, now. You should help them develop self-esteem.” At least, that was BB-8’s theory.

“Be that as it may, was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes,” said Poe. “I’d like to hire you.”

He explained the invitation briefly—an abandoned moon, a profit-seeking alien, perhaps a vague connection to one of Leia’s old acquaintances. “It sounded like there could be old archaeology. Really old. And, I mean, if anyone would know how to read it, it’d be you.”

“You flatter me, but I was constructed less than a century ago.”

“You’ve translated lots of ancient stuff, haven’t you?”

“Commander Dameron, I fear I may be giving you an unwarranted impression. Please be assured I have no fear of going into danger, if it may prove useful to you or any of my other companions—”

“Whoa! No one said anything about danger—”

“But you see, I take my duties here quite seriously, and I believe the other councilors might grow concerned if I was not present to translate for Councilor Lumpy.”

Poe laughed. He had been communicating with BB-8’s binary chirps for so long, it was difficult to remember there were sentients who _couldn’t_ have an unaided conversation with a Wookiee or a Gungan or an Ewok. But then, a truly representative government couldn’t just consist of cosmopolitan Core-Worlders. While Lumpy had made an effort to include species from every corner of the galaxy, some of them were rather provincial. C-3PO’s mannerisms made him easily mocked in a time of conflict, but he was proving to be just what a peaceful galaxy needed.

BB-8, while not as remarkably polyglot as C-3PO, would also have been an excellent companion. However, he was only willing to lead an expedition on the condition _no_ organics were involved, not even Poe himself. “Your senses are unreliable and you are prone to any number of vulnerabilities, from extremes of heat and cold to unfamiliar gravity fields,” he’d said. “And that’s just the humans!” Poe would need to find a way to keep BB-8 busy once he left. Maybe he and Rey could gather some more data on isolated desert planets.

Who did that leave? The Resistance survivors had fought out of desperation as much as courage; it would be thoughtless to write everything they’d been through off as just one adventure and look for more. He could tell them about Kylo Ren, try to explain why the Church of the Force had meant something to him, but it had been hard enough to talk to Calrissian about it. And that was _before_ the general had brought Leia into it.

And as thrilling as it would be to reunite with Black Squadron, this was probably not the kind of mission that would involve skillful piloting or blowing things up. No, he could handle it by himself. Even if he couldn’t, he’d gotten out of some weirder scrapes.

* * *

Cuyac was less of a desert planet than Tatooine or Jakku—rather, it was a world large enough to have many separate microclimates. In the polar regions, tall ferns grew and long-necked lizards slurped nectar from cinq-flowers. Near the equator, little thrived above ground, but bruzzle cats burrowed in large clans beneath the dry surface. It was in the mid-southern latitudes that Poe’s contact had claimed the ruins stood, but it took several orbits of his fighter to confirm the coordinates. At least there wasn’t any difficulty finding a landing site. Flat, featureless desert was plentiful.

It was also human-inhabitable, if unpleasantly hot. If this was their winter, what would summer have been like? The gravity was a bit lower than standard, and the nitrogen content low, but he had a molsynth back at _Black Two_ if there would be prolonged air exposure. Plus water, food, a holorecorder, and a blaster. Not that he was expecting to need the latter. Ruins or no ruins, the planet’s tourism promotions didn’t seem to be working.

So of course, Poe gave a start when another small fighter swooped down in his direction shortly after he’d landed. The passenger was humanoid, and didn’t look armed, but appearances could—

“Calrissian?” Poe blurted. “What are you doing here?”

“Funny thing,” said the general. “Turns out the government instability was just the excuse Ms. Koele needed to avoid paying the last several years of taxes. Once we investigated her...well, let’s just say she’s not going to be vacationing in Dagobah any time soon.”

“And you took over her company? To do what, build your own lightsaber?”

“Why not? I might not be an expert on the Force, but I know a con when I see it. If this is a trap, I’d rather defuse it than have some idiot stumble across and blow themselves to bits.”

“Are you calling me an idiot?”

“Didn’t know I’d find you here,” said Calrissian. “Now, once your ship landed, it wasn’t exactly hard to find you. Very metal-poor planet, this one.”

“That’s not uncommon. The Empire harvested plenty of resources from worlds without sentient life, and they only had a couple decades to do it.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m just saying,” Poe went on. “Koele said this place was ancient. Who knows how many governments could have come by.” It was depressing to realize that the despots he and even the Alliance had struggled against were just a blip in the history of the galaxy. No wonder people looked to the Jedi, to be something that might outlast politicians that came and went. Only, they’d fallen too.

He headed towards the rock formations Koele had described, Calrissian a short distance behind. It wasn’t like the other man was following him; they were both going to the same place. There wasn’t much on the planet to see.

Below him, the ground firmed up slightly. Poe paused, then kicked at the ground. Beneath the hot, dense layer of sand, there was a hotter, denser, layer of asphalt.

“You all right?” Calrissian called.

“Fine,” said Poe. “There’s something sentient-made here, I think, just not very inviting.”

He kicked away more sand. The edge of the blacktop stretched out in a straight line for some distance, like the edge of an immense bounderball court.

Calrissian glanced back at the ships. “How’s your fighter in atmosphere?”

“Fine as long as you’re not going too fast. Why, were you planning on shooting something?”

“If you want to clear this off, get a sense of how big it is, you could probably do a flyover. Use the trailing energy like a fan. I _think_ it’d be faster than walking—though that might depend on your engine.”

Nobody insulted _Black Two_ like that without comeuppance. “That’s an excellent idea,” said Poe. “You’d be welcome to help. That is, unless your thermal regs are out of warranty.”

If Calrissian let the barb get to him, he didn’t show it, but they both made their way back to their own fighters, walking alongside but not quite parallel to each other. Reluctantly, Poe configured the computer for minimum speed and maximum stability. The last thing he needed was to crash-land while Calrissian laughed.

Growing up, Poe had annoyed his father with “why don’t they just use a spacecraft” to disperse pesticides on the Yavin farmlands, and he was starting to recognize the inefficiency. _Black Two_ was built for hyperspace, not for revealing blacktop beneath accumulated years of sand. But it was still a simple pleasure to have an excuse to make tight turns and skim close to the surface, racing his “competitor” as they vied to uncover the land below.

The patch turned out to be a ragged trapezoid; the edges were all crisp, but they didn’t make a perfect square. It was perhaps big enough to park a half-dozen fighters the size of _Black Two_. Calrissian had drifted off slightly. But before Poe mocked the mediocre steering, he glanced down. There was another, disconnected, patch of asphalt below the general’s fighter.

Circling, Poe increased his altitude and took off again, knocking over the small dune he’d just created and investigating the surrounding area. Yes, there were a few other patches, each an oddly-shaped quadrilateral about as big as the first. By the time it seemed they’d uncovered them all, a ring of blown-away sand surrounded the area, like the caldera of an enormous volcano.

“Did you ever do jigsaw puzzles?” Calrissian radioed over the comms.

“Is that a metaphor for something?” Poe carefully guided _Black Two_ down to the sand, outside the asphalt.

“What? No. They just...look like pieces from a terrible puzzle. All the same color, none of them are regular shapes and they don’t fit together either.”

Poe laughed in spite of himself. “For a spacefaring species that has the ability to manipulate large chunks of land.”

Either the planet had been cooler when the formation was built, he decided, or the species that had built them was adapted to higher temperatures. Maybe both. Who built black surfaces to make a hot desert even hotter?

“Think I’m going to make camp,” said Calrissian. “So if you want to explore on your own, now’s the chance. Of course, I won’t be awake if something goes wrong.”

Poe snorted. “Please. You’d never be completely unconscious, if only for your ship’s sake.”

Calrissian seemed to take that as a compliment rather than an insult. Maybe on some level, pilots were all the same.

* * *

Morning. Water, food, water, a short scan of the surrounding area to see if the computers had picked up anything noteworthy. The wind had eroded the top layer of the caldera overnight.

If the sand could rise and fall, even a little, in a day, it could do much more over thousands of years. Maybe when the asphalt had been laid it had been beneath the bright sun, or maybe it had been expected to be buried under meters of sand.

Scattered around the perimeter were several piles of tall stones, stacked on top of one another like giant cairns. The wind had not disturbed them—were they held in place with magnetism, or some other force? Poe approached the nearest, walking around to get in its shadow. Even away from the blacktop, the sands were plenty hot.

Calrissian was there, too, and either he had more foresight when packing or his fighter just had an enormous cargo hold, because he was holding a parasol to provide some shade. “What’s her name?” he asked, by way of greeting.

Poe blinked. “Koele? She didn’t give me any other name.”

“Your ship.”

“Oh. Uh, _Black Two._ ”

“Clever.”

“ _Black One_ was destroyed after D’Qar,” said Poe. What difference did it make? He didn’t need to impress Calrissian.

But he just nodded. “This is _Spraliri._ Won’t shoot anything down, but she’s good in atmo. Figured she might be useful here.”

“So you have a whole fleet to choose from?” If nothing else, it would give new meaning to “a woman in every harbor.”

“Something like that,” said Calrissian, and craned his neck to inspect the rocks.

It didn’t take long to find evidence of sentient-carved patterns. There was a repeating glyph of a large oval with six lines protruding from its sides, and inside, various shorter lines and curves. Poe took some quick snapshots, artificially enhancing the brightness of the carvings to contrast them with the gray rocks, and sent them back to the computer to analyze.

“Maybe the outside lines indicate that it’s a frame,” Calrissian speculated, “and the part inside is actually significant.”

“Maybe,” said Poe. “Could just as well be that the six lines are most important because that was what was repeated, and the inside is just extra details.” He didn’t feel very confident, but he didn’t want Calrissian’s guesswork to go unchallenged, either.

Another rock had a series of circles carved into it. In each circle, nine dots were etched, but they didn’t quite form the same pattern; instead, they seemed to slowly metamorphose from a pair of triangles to a rising flame as you walked around the rock, and then back to the triangles.

The datapad blipped, returning the results of the scan. The shapes didn’t correspond to any of the common languages it had preloaded, which was no surprise. If it had been that easy to translate, Koele would have done it. The six-line pictograph, however, was associated in a significant number of cultures with “insects.” Convergent evolution had made that a common shape for invertebrates across the galaxy.

“This is an awfully big effort to go to to warn people about some tiny bugs,” said Calrissian. “But maybe there were predators here?”

“I feel like, by the time you found these, the predators would have already caught up to you,” Poe said. “Maybe the species that left them here were macro-scale hexapods.”

He paced over to the nearest blacktop. It still felt incongruous to build something this scale, with no pattern or obvious symbolism, in the hot desert. “What if this wasn’t—solid—when it was built?” he said. “It could have been some kind of trap. Lure the predators into the tar, and then they’d be stuck. Or maybe the builders were predators, and this was how they caught prey to fish out later. Then over time, once it was no longer maintained, it turned solid.”

Calrissian sized up the asphalt. “You might be right,” he said, then turned and walked back towards _Spraliri_.

“That’s it?” Poe chuckled. “My hypothesis is that brilliant, you’re just going to take it at face value?”

“If you’re right,” Calrissian placed just a hint of emphasis on the first word, “we would probably see fossils.”

“Did you bring a pickaxe or something too?”

“There are times,” Calrissian said evasively, “when you need to be able to scan cargo and make sure it looks opaque from the outside. If my cameras can’t detect anything out of sorts, there’s no way a customs patrol can.” He took a few more steps, then tilted his head. “You coming?”

“Despite what you may have heard, I don’t think I have any expertise to add to your computers.”

“This could take a while, and the ship is temperature-controlled.”

If it was glowering in the sun or glowering in _Spraliri_ , Poe decided, he could swallow his pride. “Thanks,” he muttered.

The ship _was_ nice. Calrissian fiddled with the computers to set up some imaging system while Poe took in the dense cargo compartments and the aerodynamic adjustments. _Spraliri_ even had foils for in-atmosphere regulation! “Where did you find this?”

Calrissian gave the matter consideration. “Technically, it was Coruscant,” he said, “but it was much...boxier then. A 3R-console, second gen.”

Not wanting to display ignorance, Poe nodded coolly. Then they rose, the ship slowly tracing the perimeter of the area as it listened for resonance below the surface. For a while nothing appeared on the display, but then a rough etch took shape. Calrissian blinked as a second scan confirmed the scale. There was a narrow shaft descending over half a kilometer, and then it suddenly opened up into a vast cavern.

“Maybe it’s some kind of refuge,” said Calrissian. “Endangered insects beneath. Keep out.”

“I feel like the type of species that could easily drill through this wouldn’t be scared by a sign...” Poe trailed off.

“True. There have always been individuals who will do something a sign tells them not to do, no matter the species.”

An enormous cavern below the surface, elaborate carvings, mixed in with the dark patches where nothing living could grow. “What if it’s a tomb?”

“Could be,” said Calrissian. “I guess there are cultures where important leaders are buried with the weapons they used in life. So they can reach them in the Force-world.”

The Force...Poe tensed, wondering how much of Leia’s memorial he understood firsthand and how much was the others, Chewie and Rey and C-3PO, trying to piece together all the pieces of her legacy. “If that’s it,” he said, “I think Koele was wrong. I don’t think this is a Jedi site, or the Church of the Force or anything else.”

“Oh?” Calrissian’s voice was level. There was no way to tell if he was genuinely curious or making polite conversation, or even felt cocksure that Poe had backed away from his early theory.

“Jedi build _buildings_ , I know. There was some kind of temple on Coruscant, and Rey said there was this ancient shrine or something on Ahch-To. But graves? I’m pretty sure their bodies just...become one with the Force, or something. They wouldn’t build this huge of a monument just because someone died here.”

Calrissian nodded. “And the Church, or the other sects? Would they have built something?”

“I’m not sure,” Poe snapped. “I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time sightseeing on Jakku.”

Calrissian turned back to the screen, as if the outline would suddenly populate itself with a holoview of the cavern. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Skip it.”

“For Leia, I mean—”

“ _Skip_ it.”

“My condolences,” he pressed on. “I forget how many different people she meant something to, sometimes.”

Poe was acutely conscious that he was stuck relying on Calrissian’s hospitality until the _Spraliri_ landed, and also that the general was self-important enough that he would deign to be nice to Poe even if he didn’t warrant it. What he said was, “You’re telling me.”

They drifted down to the surface, and Poe disembarked. Somewhere deep below his feet was a vast hollow, and yet there seemed to be no relationship between the asphalt and the void. Rey had described a sense of something alive beneath the surface of Ahch-To, something whispering to her and pulling her into its depths. Would she feel the same ghostly echoes here? Or were they hidden even from the Jedi?

Poe returned to _Black Two_ to send a brief message to Rey. _Following up wild vulpice chase for potential Force-worshippers. Probably not Jedi. Any way for an average guy like me to search remotely for traces of kyber or something?_

Only after sending it off did another possibility occur to him. The Jedi were not the only ones who manipulated the Force.

“I’ll probably give it another day,” he said. “See if Rey has any ideas. Otherwise—there’s plenty in the past we don’t need to dig up.”

“Wise of you,” said Calrissian. “Besides, if there were anything here worth credits, Koele would have found some way to plunder it.”

* * *

Poe woke up in the middle of the night. He had been dreaming, he thought, but could not remember any of the details. Maybe that was for the best.

By the time he had finished using the compact facilities, his eyes had almost adjusted to the darkness. The atmosphere in Cuyac was breathable, but thin enough that even distant stars shone clearly. In the absence of artificial lights, the galaxy glittered: fuzzy nebulae, crisp binary stars, imposing red giants.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Poe gave a start, but it was only Calrissian, wearing red-tilted goggles to preserve his night vision. “Nope,” Poe said. “Nature calls.”

“Could be worse, could be have been an infrasonic warning from whatever’s down there.”

“Nice view, at least.”

“Mmhmm,” said Calrissian. “I’ve spent most of my time in hyperspace or high-precipitation worlds. Not used to views like these.”

“Come on, you’ve travelled the galaxy. You’ve had to have great viewing conditions somewhere.”

“Well,” Calrissian began, “there was the time—” Poe smiled, expecting a recounting of a daring escape from the Empire or a heist above the canopies of Kashyyyk. But Calrissian had broken off. “This is about Leia.”

“So?”

“Just, if you didn’t want to hear it.”

“I think I can handle your younger misadventures,” Poe said.

If Calrissian was offended, it was impossible to see through the darkness. “Not too long after Endor, some of us were out on Vildena. Leia and Holdo had climbed mountains, of course, they were used to it, but Han and I were out of breath—”

“You knew Holdo?” Poe interrupted. “When she was with the Rebellion?”

“She was kind of hard to miss,” said Calrissian, and with that, Poe had to agree. Calrissian went on; “Anyway, by the time we got to the campsite, it was dark but the skies were clear. And then Holdo starts trying to tell our fortunes based on some kind of astrology nonsense.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” said Poe. “Even if there were any science to it, which there isn’t, every planet would have its own coordinate system.”

“That’s exactly what Chewbacca said.”

“Chewbacca?”

“Han and I were so relieved to be on level ground that we were mostly getting drunk, we didn’t want a fight, but Chewbacca was letting her have it. No matter what she said about ‘it’s just culture’ and ‘it’s important to be open-minded,’ he was raging like the scientific method was being thrown out the airlock.”

“What happened?”

“Eventually she’d had enough wine she didn’t want to fight and Chewbacca finally left her alone. There’s some scientific method for you, effects of alcohol at high altitudes. Course, I wasn’t much better, egging Han on...”

He trailed off, lost in a past where victory had been near at hand and seemed permanent. Poe glanced at the southern sky. What would the Vice-Admiral have made of the stars visible from Cuyac? Would she have seen a ship? A mountain range? A flame?

“Constellations!” he blurted.

“Yeah,” said Calrissian, “she thought that—”

“Not her, here. See that cluster, low on the horizon to the south? How it kind of looks like a fire if you squint?”

“What kind of fires are you lighting, that that looks like—”

“It’s the same pattern from the rocks. That group of nine dots, those are the stars. Except, there should be some triangle constellations too, elsewhere in the sky. And I don’t see those...”

Calrissian inhaled sharply. “This planet has a precessional axis.”

“Sure,” said Poe. “Lots of planets have seasons.”

“But that also means that the apparent position of the distant stars changes over time. If that’s their southern pole—in the past, it would have looked like the triangle formation. And in the even more distant past, it looked like this again. The carving isn’t a map of space, it’s a map through _time_.”

“That kind of change takes—tens of thousands of years. Maybe hundreds.”

“Whoever built this place really did want it to last,” said Calrissian. “They were waiting for us.”

It took Poe a long time to get back to sleep.

* * *

_Doubt there’s any kyber,_ Rey wrote back. _The Empire would probably have found it first. Unless you’re out in Wild Space, in which case, I have many more questions. Random Force-worshippers are probably more likely to have built a temple than independent Jedi, the latter have ghosts to pass on information. (Although they’re annoyingly inconsistent about what they help with.) Hope you’re doing okay out there._

“Whoever built this,” Calrissian summarized, “was fairly scientifically advanced. Enough to know about precessions. They would have probably used a lot of the metal resources—and then maybe other civilizations harnessed the rest.”

“Mmhmm,” said Poe. Rey had told him stories about Jakku—abandoned ships and insatiable hagglers. It would have been a very strange place for Lor San Tekka to hide something he wanted to preserve; if the _Millennium Falcon_ was any indication, it didn’t take long for legends to become scrap. “I don’t think it’s related to the Force, though.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Calrissian shifted his weight, like he was looking to steady himself atop the sands. “You seemed pretty—driven, looking over that junk mail. If you go back empty-handed, are you going to be disappointed?”

The man had a knack for seeming genuine one minute and patronizing the next. Did he think he was just a kid, not Leia’s second-in-command? “Flyboys usually buy me dinner before they worry about disappointing me.”

He had expected Calrissian to roll his eyes and go back to making sure _Spraliri_ hadn’t overheated, but instead he looked Poe up and down. “I’d expect every restaurant in the galaxy would be happy to serve you on the house, given your resume.”

“Oh?” Poe challenged. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“All right,” said Lando, “cut the chatter. You’re a war hero and I’m an old geezer, save your joking until you’re in an inhabited system.” Well, then. Not just a kid.

“What if I happen to like geezers?” It was reckless, he knew even as he spoke. But Lando knew his way around a ship, and could think on his feet, and had been there when the galaxy needed him. He could do worse. A lot worse. Besides, hadn’t Leia’s tastes been just as questionable?

“They’ll go and stick their feet in their mouths.” Was he actually embarrassed?

“Life is short.” Poe nodded at the cairns. “Next to the span of the galaxy, anyway. Might as well give people second chances.”

Lando gave a brief smile. “If I get to buy, I’m picking an ice planet.”


End file.
